The Heroic tale of Rezlan
by The Hentai master
Summary: This is the backstory to one of my roleplaying characters in Skyrim. This is the tale of how the brash young bard, Rezlan Ruptga Marcus Claude Nawalib found himself in the land of the Nords and before its residents knew him as the Dovahkin. I am working on more parts of the story but I am always open to those willing to give me feedback on my character writing so feel free to.
1. 17 of Last Seed 420,4E

Disclaimer: I own only the characters who are in this story( or most of them anyway) and the rest is all the property of Bethesda softworks and their badassery

Chapter 1: 17th of Last seed, 420, 4E

It was a chilling night in Sentinel. The wind scattered shards of leaves. Somewhere off in the distance a stay dog howled. The pub, much like the city itself, was rundown and filthy. The sign outside gave it away. In faded blue paint the words "The Tipsy Sload" could be read, which may have been the name in some better days but the wind and time have taken its toll. However, unlike the city outside, the pub was alive.

The man by the fire was playing lute and singing. All the patrons around were either dancing in a half drunk frenzy, holing their flagons up high, if they were able but the older men and little girls about them merely listened with approval. In the back

The bartender, a Redguard woman, wiped down the barfront with a exasperated look on her face, that seemed to be set in stone.

"Ey, Rezlan" a Nord man said red in the face.

" Sing me that one from me home north" The man said as the dregs of his beer caught in his beard and glimmered in the firelight.

Rezlan knew the song well "Ragnar the Red"

Truth be told however, he had no idea where this Whiterun or ole Rorkistead were; he was Redguard through and through. Mother constantly told him he had a little Imperial and Breton blood in him but he didn't care. He was born where the Hammer fell. That's all that matters. That said, patrons had to be pleased and with a hand gliding across the lute's six strings, he began

" There once was a man by the name Ragnar the Red"

He knew the song by rote. He learnt the hard way, some folks don't take kindly to songs being rewritten by a skooma addled youth. The Tankard aimed at his face hurt but Rezlan thought it funny that a bloody tale of decapitation could be just as easily about a brutish orc berzerker being forced to disguise as a busty tavern wench.

" And the once boastful braggart was boastful no morrre,

When his ugly red head rolled around on the flooor"

He nailed the ending. The tavern broke into applause and the Nord man threw a gold septim at his feet. He picked it up and pocketed it as he bowed to the patrons. At the third hour after midnight, when the crowd dispersed and the pub grew quiet, the Bartender laid a small sack of gold on the counter. Rezlan counted it, looked into the woman's dark eyes with a wry smile and said

" This is five septims shy of my usual payment."

The woman's aura of maturity and age melted away like a desert mirage to show a childish demeanor.

Her lips pouted as she said exaggerating a sigh.

" The louts you brought in spilled too much beer; I'm gonna have to cut your pay to cover it. No hard feelings"

Rezlan leaped over the counter and clasped the woman's hand and said " Ah! But you see, that hurts my feelings, and I as Rezlan Ruptga Marcus Claude of house Nawalib will not stand for my pride being tarnished like this. He let go of her hand and gesticulated flamboyantly. " Surely, a fair maid as beautiful as yourself must be honorable enough to understand that you cannot let such transgressions stand and mus-" Rezan didn't get to finish and specify what she must do as recompense. The woman grabbed Rezan by his silk tunic and kissed him. Her breath smelt of beer. It was wet and hungry. She shoved him away a second later. "Happy?" She said as she smiled a mouth full of white straight teeth. " Oh You knew what I wanted, didn't you Im?" Iman turned away and grabbed the broom propped against the drink shelf. She replied " I have know you for a year now Rez and you love three things, singing, skooma and drink." Rezan laughed and said "you forgot you."

" Did I?" Iman said. She swept for a couple of minutes before saying "Father was cruel to leave me with this shop" Iman looked sad Rezlan noted. She always looked that way since her father died. This was shortly after the those thrice damned elves were driven out from Hammerfell. The Old man went to Stros M'Kai without a word and from there to Daggerfall, sending a letter explaining how an old friend called on him. It hurt so bad to see his frostbitten corpse turn up on the shore of the Illiac bay. Iman cried a river than night. It had been a year since then. These sorts of wounds don't heal. Not that it stopped Rezlan from trying. Iman tried to ask the city guards who the perpetrator was but apart from the fact he was a mage, they had no leads. No amount of gold could make them remember. Eventualy, like most things that get lost in the city that hugs the Alik'r desert, everyone forgot the bizarre incident and resumed with their lives. Iman's father was the proud owner of The Tipsy Sload and put little money elsewhere.

A neat pile of dust formed in the corner of the shop. "That should be good enough for now." Iman said a few minutes later.

"You always seem to do that!" Rezlan said as he pointed at the dust pile. He got off the table he perched himself on to get out of Im's way as she swept and said "The reason you don't get many customers is because your bar is filthy." Iman sighed. She had danced this dance before. Rezlan yanked the broom from her grip and swept the floor a second time. In a few minutes, the floor, though was a simple old rough cut stone, seemed to gleam like marble. Rezlan said as his a track of sweat formed on his brow " This will attract customers. People love to be in clean places."

Iman smiled and retorted " I was attracting customers just fine before Rez."

Rezlan smiled back as he strode up to her and said " You can thank me for that later"

He went and retrieved his lute from one of the tables and ran his hands across the strings. He plucked out a simple melody for the mood. Neither Iman nor he spoke, yet neither he nor iman was bored. She wiped a few of the table with a rag. Rezlan smiled to himself, for she seemed to put a little more effort. " Probably doesn't want me to do it after.'

"Iman," Rezlan called out as she finished wiping the last table. "Are you sure you want to leave this place behind?" he knew that was a stupid question. Iman hated this place. The way it looked, the way it smelled, the unsavory nature of the bulk of her patrons...the way it always reminded her of her father. She always told him how she wanted to leave for Cyrodil or Stros M'kai or Daggerfall after selling the pub

She paced up to Rezlan and sat on the bar stool at beside him. " Yeah," she said. Her lack of conviction surprised Rezlan. "I want out of this damn city "

She said, more sure of herself. Rezlan was not surprised there. "Well, for now do your best and soon we'll get out of this city. Besides, I hear Skyrim is beautiful in the summer season." He said smiling. Rezlan saw Iman, for the first time in a long time, look happy. " Yeah," She said.

"Rez, don't you think you should leave soon?" Iman said, feigning annoyance. Rezlan sensed her concern and agreed; mother was going to be angry. "Perhaps I should, but I fear you would be lonely if I did my love" He said grinning. He leaned in for another kiss but Iman turned away.

"I have taken a liking to solitude in your company" Iman said with a wry smirk.

"Oh, then perhaps I should take my leave then" Rezlan said getting up with his lute. He picked up his sable cloak and draped it over his shoulders. Iman pulled his hood over his face and opened the door.

" You can be sure you can hear me play again tomorrow" Rezlan's mouth said mechanically.

He held his bag of gold up and continued," I also look forward to the 5 septim bonus you are gonna give me tomorrow"

Iman laughed "You wish. If I am ever to leave this damned city, I need to save every bit of gold I can save."

"Gold saved wisely" Rezlan conceded

"Good night my love " Rezlan said

" Good night, and Rezlan.." Iman shouted to Rezlan as he basked in the moonlight,

"Thank you" Iman smiling unconsciously.

Rezlan smiled and walked Sentinel's dusty streets home.


	2. A Mothers Wrath

Rezlan sighed and blew a fine cloud of mist at into the cold morning air. The streets were devoid of any signs of life except for the scurrying of rats in the alleyways as they burrowed into heaps of rubbish. Rezlan looked up and saw the cat staring at the mice intently. He kept walking, strumming the strings of his lute with quick nimble fingers. His mind was a spiral. No matter what line of thought it tried to take it call came back to one question:

What punishment does mother have waiting for him?

This wasn't the first time Rezlan defied the wishes of his mother. Aaliyah Nawalib was a lady most proper; Mistress of house Nawalib, she loathed those meeting places of the plebeian folk. The way they drank cheap ale and discussed baseless rumors and indulged in base and vile pleasures that were abhorrent in the eyes of both the old Gods of Yokuda and the new Gods of the Empire! Rezaln has defied her more times than he could count.

He strode through Sentinel's street with slow short steps. He was in no hurry to receive mother's punishment.

Yet, as slow as he tried to move, before the thoughts of trying to flee his punishment took hold, he arrived at his ancestral home. House Nawalib was a newly established house and hence was more modest than other houses of Hammerfell. Its like they were not even nobles. As such, the Nawalibikan, as the house was called, was a modest thing. With an extra floor than most other houses, a rust eaten fence depicting a figure of the goddess Tava, the goddess of air, a modest yard paved with stone and a shrub that stayed as it was when it was planed a year ago.

Rezlan rubbed his hands together and sighed. Deep breath. Deep breath, He repeated this like a prayer. He tried to steady his breathing as much as possible and went with the grave look of a prisoner facing the headsman's ax.

The door opened with a loud creak.

"Well so much for the silent entry" Rezlan laughed nervously to himself. Though the air inside was dry, Rezlan rejoiced in its warmth as the light of the moon was replaced by paper lanterns that hung in the nooks and crannies of the ceiling. Rezlan contemplated the hallway before removing his boots and walking to the dining room. The growling of his stomach overpowered his instincts of preservation.

His heart stopped briefly when he heard a high cold voice reply

"And Where have you been?"

Rezlan's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth

"Dinner was waiting for you for six hours and yet you were nowhere to be found" the voice said closer behind him

Swallowing his fear and bracing himself, Rezlan dared turn around into his mother's slap.

It stung, however he hadn't suffered the worst yet. Another came. and another. And another. and another. and another. Till his cheeks were so red and so raw that it felt like they were stung by a swarm of angry wasps.

Tears welled up in Rezlan's eyes; its not that he regretted what he did but the pain was too much for him to bear.

"How dare you defy me!" Rezlan heard the small woman roar.

"I told you you not to meet that filthy whore who owns that tavern!" His mother shouted at him.

Rezlan remained stoic. Or so he tried. But his stoicism was marred but the slow trickling of tears. He remained silent.

His mother sobbed. Rezlan was surprised when his mother started crying too.

"I was so scared" His mother whispered

"I was so scared that you would leave me like father did."

Rezlan's heart knotted into a ball. It was ten years ago, when Ahmid Nawalib sailed out to sea and never returned. That feeling hung over both of them. It felt like it was all that left to hold him and his mother together.

Years ago, Rezlan once entertained the notion that he and Iman could run away together but he could not bring himself to leave this woman who, as it was was on the verge of lunacy.

" I won't leave you mother, stop crying" Rezlan tried to say to comfort her but the words were empty, naught but air rolled up in to sweet nothings.

His mother stopped crying eventually. She gathered herself up and continued in her chastising tone

"I don't understand why you keep going out night after night and mingle with those bottom feeder scum of the city who do nothing of value to anyone!" She continued in a tone that sounded like some particularly haughty angel. "All they ever do is sit around and drink ale and gossip".

Rezlan's blood boiled. This was exactly the sort of thing about his mother he hated. Barely containing his rage he said with with the sharpest words he could summon

" Mother are you su-"

his mother hushed him for a moment. It was said that in the old Yokudan tongue, Rezlan meant lion, a majestic beast that ruled them all, who had to bow and scrape before none and who's roar would make the mountains echo and make the earth tremble. Rezlan was reminded of this when he heard his stomach.

Mother's look accused him of an unpardonable sin: he didn't eat supper.

"Just wait, I'll have A'thwacca bring something; you sit down in the dining hall" His mother said with an alarming sense of urgency, like Rezlan was going to die of starvation. She lead him to the dining hall in a grip of iron clamped around his wrist and and sat him down.

"Just give me five,no- one minute!" She said and disappeared to the hallway.

"A'thwacca!" Rezlan heard the echo.

Exactly one minute later, the scrawny fourteen year old boy named A'thwacca came out of the kitchen with a flagon of spiced wine, fresh of the boat from that land Skyrim Rezlan had heard off, a loaf of bread as broad as Rezlan's shoulders and a full wheel of eider cheese and a soup of assorted fish found in the Illiac bay.

The aroma was more intoxicating than the smell of distilled skooma. His mother sat next him, and dipped a small bit of bread in the soup and said

"Right, say 'ahhh' "

'Rezlan hated his surprise. Her she was, feeding her perfectly able, 18 year old son like he was a new born baby.

"Mother, I can-"

His mother shoved the bread in his mouth. The soup was spicy but it was exactly as spicy as he wanted it.

Before he knew it, his mother fed him half the loaf of bread and he was stuffed. He drain the soup from the bowl straight.

"Eat properly! Use a spoon!" His mother said but by then the soup disappeared down his throat.

"By Tall Papa's beard! why didn't you eat dinner? Do you want to starve to death?" His mother shouted at him

Rezlan remained silent.

"Well, what ever it is, you don't need to starve. You are the son of a noble." His mother said to him softly.

Rezlan knew this side of his mother. She hit him. She slapped him and hurt him in so many ways. But for what it was worth, Rezlan could still see how deeply she cared about him- In her own bizarre ways that eluded him.

"Rezlan, tomorrow evening, We are going meet with the Queen of Sentinel." His mother said. Rezlan reeled almost on reflex. He forced his mouth shut. "We are going of dine with the Queen" His mother said with the put on aura of sophistication that a mummer might have in a play.

"Why?" Rezlan asked bluntly

"Her majesty has summoned us personally." His mother said with a grave air about her.

Rezlan knew that that there was no refusing a Queen's summons lest they end up dead...or worse flayed and hung like a pelt in the castle's dungeons or so the rumors went according to the Tipsy Sload's patrons. The new Queen of Sentinel had a supposedly nasty habit of skinning men in the lower jail cells and, according to one patron, using their hide as a robe or using it as a rug. Rezlan was confident that these rumors were not true. But he had his reservations. The Orc man who claimed she did had shown his arm where a neat square of flesh had been carved away. but Rezlan was still skeptical.

Rezlan was going to ask if he had to but snuffed the question like a weak flame. He cared only to play his lute for generous patrons and for those he cared about. but if he say, got a certain queen as a patron, then his wealth was all but assured. At the very least, he could occupy himself if the conversation got boring.

"Very well, I can bring my lute can't I?" Rezlan asked.

His heard his heart beat once. Twice. His mother opened his mouth to protest. She closed it again.

"Very well, but keep it out of view."

Rezlan felt relieved at being able to carry his companion.

Rezlan said his fear of his mother dying down. He sighed and rose from the low seat at the luxuriant wooden board a foot off the floor that was their table. His arms shot to the roof as he fantastically posed and said

"That is a heart felt relief, for I was worried that I, Rezlan Ruptga Marcus Claude Nawalib, would not be able enchant Her Majesty with my melodies!" He said as though he was a heroine in an ancient epic swooning as she learned that her husband returned home safely from a bloody battle.

A smile as weak the light of a small candle illuminated the fifty year old woman's wrinkled face. She said rather dryly "Perhaps I shouldn't let you bring it. She shouldn't be subjected to that filth you call music"

Rezlan laughed more heartily than the dig merited. He smiled and showed his white but crooked teeth.

He took the staircase next to the door.

Without a word, mother and son went to their rooms and went to bed, lost in thought.

Rezlan's thoughts were fixed on the horizon, about the morrow.

He pulled the silk coverlets to his chin, his eyes filled corner to corner by the scene of Ra Gada conquering the lands he calls home all those millennia ago. His grip on his mind slowly but surely relented. Before long, he dreamt passionate red dreams; dreams full of warmth and kindness. He vividly saw he and Iman in a shaded wood, full of tall trees and the scent of nettles and honey and gods only know how many wildflowers. He decided, like he often had, to leave tomorrows problems to tomorrow.

His dreams warmed him as he drifted deeper and deeper into the lands of sleep.


End file.
